


let me hear you

by manndo



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Claiming Bites, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manndo/pseuds/manndo
Summary: Javier just wanted — no heneeded— to hear your voice.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Original Female Character(s), Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	let me hear you

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this post](https://pedropascalito.tumblr.com/post/638973111663034368/javier-pe%C3%B1a-breaking-down-and-calling-your) on tumblr. this was supposed to be like, maybe 500 hundred words?? but like, apparently i can’t write drabbles and so here were are, 3,000 words later. i do want to make note that this is also my first time at writing something semi-sexual — there isn’t any actual smut, but it is talked about/heavily implied. only one use of y/n (it couldn't be helped). as usual, all mistakes are my own. kudos/comments are appreciated. :)

It was his fucking fault.

Sure, he could blame it on the job, on Pablo fucking Escobar, but it wasn’t any of those things. It was him. It was _always_ him.

“Come on,” he muttered as the first ring sounded through the receiver. Then a second, then a third. “Pick up the phone,” he begged softly after the fourth. “Please.” But, then there was a fifth ring and the tell tale click of your answering machine message about to begin. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath and pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to slam it back down on the receiver. But, he stopped himself and quickly brought the phone back to his ear.

“Hey, Y/N here! Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. But, if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

— — — — 

“Hey, I got you something,” Javier said as he entered your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“A present? For me?” you asked, turning on your heel to face him. A smirk broke out over your face. “Something we can both enjoy?”

Javier chuckled softly and shook his head, taking a step toward you. “You are insatiable, princess,” he muttered as he reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your forehead.

You hummed. “I wonder where I get that from,” you said, your eyes wide and innocent as you reached out, forefinger and middle finger pressing against the bottom button of his tucked in red shirt.

Javier looked down at your hand as your fingers slowly walked their way up his chest, before coming to a halt at the third button from the top (the first two buttons were, as usually with Javier, already undone). With practiced ease, your fingers deftly worked open the button before the brushing against the exposed skin. Involuntarily, he shivered at the ghost of your touch, but it was gone before it started, your fingers now working on the next button. Before you could get to the second one, Javier reached out his free hand and wrapped it around your wrist, stopping your movements. You raised your eyebrow. “Maybe next time, princess,” he promised with a wink before letting go of your wrist. You didn’t continue your movements, and Javier took that as a sign to pull the bag he had been hiding from behind his back. He held it out between the two of you. You eyed it for a moment before taking it from him, and opening it. You furrowed your brow before reaching in and pulling out the box.

“An answering machine?” you asked, puzzled as you let the bag fall to the floor and held the box in your hands.

Javier hummed and shrugged his shoulder. “I noticed that you didn’t have one.”

“What gave it away?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, glancing back at him.

Javier rolled his eyes. “You need one, princess.”

“Do I? I have been doing perfectly fine without it for the past few months, Javi,” you explained, flipping the box over. He watched your eyes scan the back of the box.

Javier sighed, and rested his hands on his hips. “Hermosa,” he started, his voice low and serious. “What if someone can’t get a hold of you, hm? What then?”

“They call back, that’s what.”

Javier let out a small, irritated growl, and you looked up from the box to him. Slowly, you raised your eyebrow as you gave him a questioning look. Javier huffed, tightening his hands on his hips, but said nothing. He watched as your questioning gaze began to study him, head titling ever so slightly as your beautiful eyes carefully took him in. And, with every second that passed, every inch of him that you gazed upon, it seemed as if you were figuring out the real reason Javier had bought you an answering machine in the first place. That he wanted — no _needed_ — to be able to leave you messages. That he _needed_ you to know he had called, and that you’d call him back once you got his message. To let him know you were home. To let him know you were safe. Because, there were times, times when he called and the phone would just ring and ring and ring, and _fuck_. Those were the times his heart would pound in his chest, and his mind would fill with all these terrible fucking scenarios of what could have happened. It was his own nightmare filled by his own experiences, the job he had dedicated his life to, and _this_. This answering machine; it wouldn’t elevate all those thoughts, Javier knew that, knew that it wouldn’t make them all magically disappear. But, there would be some temporary comfort from his aberrant mind.

“Alright, Javi,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. Javier watched as you took a step toward him, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’ll keep it. But, _you_ ,” you said, taking the box in your hand and pressing it against the middle of his chest. Javier’s hand immediately came up to cover yours, holding it and the box in place. “Are helping me set it up.”

Javier smiled as he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

It hadn’t taken long to set up the machine itself. However, the recording was a different story.

The first time you tried to record yourself, Javier had interrupted you with a playful smack to your ass that had caught you completely off guard, causing you to yelp in the middle of your sentence. You had scolded him for his behavior, telling him to keep his hands to himself. With a smirk, he promised, but you didn’t believe him as you erased the recording and started again. And, you had every right not to believe him — because a moment later, he reached out, running his fingers up the side of your ribcage.

“Javi!” you squeed, side bending as you squirmed to get away from him before he could attack again. However, he was quicker, and was able to get one last swipe at your sides before you got fully out of his reach. He let out a small laugh, a grin pulling at his lips as you huffed, a few strands of your hair blowing with your breath, and placed your hands on your hips. “What did I tell you?” you asked, glaring down at him.

“Sorry, must have forgotten,” he mumbled, acting nonchalantly as he raised his beer bottle to his lips and took a swig, but his dark eyes were dancing with mischief.

You narrowed your eyes. “Forgotten my ass, you little shit,” you mumbled, stepping back to where you had been standing before. “Hands to yourself, Peña. You hear me?”

He stood up from the couch. “Alright, alright. Hands to myself,” he repeated and you eyed him for a moment. Javier could tell you were still skeptical that he would do something. “Promise,” he said before he breezed by you, heading toward the kitchen to grab another beer. Javier could feel your eyes on his back as he dropped the bottle in the trash and opened to the fridge to swipe a fresh one. When he turned around to head back in the living room, you were still eying him wearily, but you had already deleted the previous recording. You started recording again, your eyes finally leaving his to look down at the machine. A wicked grin spread across his face. In four quick strides, he was standing next to you and before you could give him a warning glare, Javier had leaned down and sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder blade (he silently thanked God you had chosen to wear a tank top that day).

You had, after all, said hands only.

“ _Javier_ ,” you groaned, and for a brief moment, Javier had expected you to pull away, irritated by his actions. But, you didn’t pull away, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see you grasping at the corners of the end table, knuckles turning white. He mentally grinned, and bit down a little harder before worrying the skin between his teeth, and electing a whimper from your lips that went straight to his cock.

Javier knew you fucking _loved_ this — the biting, the marking, the claiming. You had never said anything out right, but oh, Javier _knew_ ; he knew it by the way he found you admiring the marks he’d made the night before in the mirror, your hands gently running over the bruises. He knew by the mewling, the whimpers, the groans of pleasure you made. Or, his absolute favorite, the way your pussy clenched deliciously around his cock if he was buried inside of you.

Javier gave one last pinch of the skin between his teeth before pulling away. He grinned at the abused skin, could see the indentation of his teeth and imagined the beautiful colors it would turn within the hour. The thought sent another spike of arousal straight to his cock. You whipped your head around to face him, and though you were glaring at him, it didn’t matter. He could see the arousal in your face; the way your pupils were dilated, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the hitch in your breath. The grin on Javier’s face grew. “You only said hands, princess,” he said, holding his hands up, the unopened beer bottle still in one hand as he took a step back before letting himself fall back on to the couch.

“Peña,” you growled, voice low, warning, but Javier could hear it. That tinge of arousal. “I’m warning you.”

Javier chuckled, low and deep in his throat. He locked eyes with you, and leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees. “Warning me?” he asked, keeping his tone light as he looked away from you, and grabbing the bottle opener he’d left on the coffee table. “Warning me about what, princess?” He swiftly popped the bottle top off, and dropped the little metal top and opener back on the table. Javier leaned into the couch, resting one arm over the back of it as he looked at you, that grin still pulling at his lips. He took a long, slow swig of beer. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled the bottle away from his lips, waiting for you to say something. However, you were completely silent, but your eyes weren’t. No, they were still _screaming_ for him. “Come on,” Javier started again, his voice an octave lower than before. He licked his lips, and watched as your eyes followed the movement. “What’s this warning you’re gonna give me?”

The seconds ticked by, the two of you silently watching each other. You were studying him so hard Javier couldn’t help but almost feel naked under your gaze, even with all his clothes on. He forced himself not to move, not to shift against the couch as he waited for you to say something, do something. He took a swig of his beer, and watched as your demeanor slowly shifted. Your back straighten, and a sly smirked pulled at your lips. He watched as you came to stand next to him, your thigh brushing against his knee.

Javier felt the tables were turning on him.

“Instead of a warning, how about this?” you started, resting one hand on the back of the couch while the other came to rest on high on Javier’s thigh as you leaned down, your lips only a few inches away from his. The hand on his thigh squeezed and Javier couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his lips. “You let me record this tiny, _tiny_ , little message,” you explained, eyes flickering down to Javier’s lips, then to his crotch. Javier watched you lick your lips, hand sliding farther up his thigh, coming to a stop just short of where he wanted you to. “Without interruptions.” Your finger traced the outline of his half-hard cock, causing another groan to escape Javier’s lips as his eyes fell closed, hand gripping the bottle of beer in a death grip. “And, I’ll let you fuck my mouth,” you finished, and without warning, covered Javier’s clothed cock with your palm and pressed down, grinding your palm against him.

“Fuck,” Javier hissed, hips bucking into your hand, but as soon as it started, your hand was gone — and you were gone too. When his eyes opened, you were already standing up straight over him, looking down at him with that shit eating grin. Your eyes were dancing with arousal and mischief. Oh, how the tables _had_ turned.

“You think you can be a good boy for me, Javi?” you asked, breathlessly and wanton, a sound that went straight to his cock. He nodded his head so quick that he was afraid he might break his neck. A wicked grin pulled at your lips as you turned your attention back to the machine.

It was the most painful ten minutes of his life because, _of course_ , you wouldn’t like the first take. Or the second, or the third. Javier knew why you didn’t like them — it wasn’t cause you sounded bad, or you stammered ever so slightly in the middle. No, you were _teasing_ him. You were purposely messing this up just so you could watch him squirm as he waited, his body humming in anticipation as his poor cock strained against his jeans. Javier had thought about shucking his belt, unzipping his pants, and taking out his cock, just to get _some_ sort of relief, maybe even give it a few tugs. But, he wasn’t even sure if he was _allowed_ to. Jesus Christ, _allowed to_ — anyone else, and Javier wouldn’t have hesitate. But you, there was something about you that had him giving up the control he constantly needed. Maybe it was the way that when he pushed, you would push back— that constant back and forth that turned him on to no fucking end.

“Javi,” you called out, voice soft and practically singing. Javier snapped his head to look up at you. You were standing there, all doe eyed and innocent looking, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m finished.” You took a step toward him, and reached out, giving his knee a squeeze. Without hesitation, he let his legs fall open and you came to stand between them. “See,” you mumbled, as you ran your hand from his knee to his thigh and back down again. “I knew you could be a good boy.” Javier’s cock twitched in the confines of his jeans. “And you know what good boys get?” You slowly went down, falling to your knees in front of him, and God, was it such a pretty picture. You grabbed the practically empty bottle of beer from his hand and set it on the end table beside you. “Good boys,” you started, hands coming to rest on his belt, “get rewarded.”

— — — — 

The obnoxious beep pulled Javier out of his thoughts. “Fuck,” he muttered before realizing that he had said that out loud. “Shit, it’s—” he started and slammed his hand on the payphone box. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s me, princess. I wanted to — I needed—” Javier felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—I needed to hear your voice,” he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He quickly turned and glanced behind him. There was nobody near him, nobody that could hear the desperation — the absolutely fucking _heartbreak_ because that’s what this was, even if he didn’t want to admit it — in his voice. But, still this was a shitty fucking place to be doing this.

But, he hadn’t _thought_ — he saw the payphone and just called, the need to hear your voice so fucking strong. It had only been a week, but he fucking missed you. He missed everything about you, but God, did he miss your voice. He missed the way you sounded when you greeted him in the soft morning light after the two of you had woken up, limbs tangled around each other to the point where Javier wasn’t sure where one of you began and the other ended. Or, the way you sounded when you greeted him at your door after work, a smile on your face and your arms open, willing to be whatever he needed after a long, rough day. The sound of your voice when you whispered sweet nothings into his ear before you both fell asleep. The sound of your laughter when he told one of his jokes, or when he tickled your sides because he knew you were ticklish. And God, he missed the sound of your voice when you said his name. Javier. Javi. Peña. Pendejo (the one name usually reserved for when he’d done something particularly, utterly stupid or reckless). It didn’t matter what you called him, or even when you did — when you were happy, sad, angry, sleepy, aroused — he just missed it, _so fucking much_.

Fuck, he just missed _you_.

And now, here he was, standing at a goddamn payphone, leaving you a vague fucking message. He coughed, and softly banged his hand against the payphone’s metal box. “Please cal—” The line went dead, the recorder cutting him off, and leaving Javier with the numbing sound of a dial tone.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Javier looked down at it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh, eyes falling closed once more as he let the phone come to rest against his forehead. “Fuck,” he whispered again, his fingers clenching around the phone. The dial tone was softer now, not pressed against his ear, but he could still hear it. It was still as loud as ever, still ringing in his ear, taunting him and reminding Javier of what he had lost.


End file.
